


Coming apart at the seams

by elenilote



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenilote/pseuds/elenilote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Alistair have a confrontation, Sebastian intercedes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming apart at the seams

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sign of the Maker outtake](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11011) by Emma. 



> Birthday present for the lovely Emma (eviltwinofme.tumblr.com). Based on an abandoned picture of hers that in turn was supposed to illustrate her own fic Sign of the Maker.

The tension between the three men in the small room is palpable, and not just because of the shouting. The mage stands between the two armoured men, his staff at the ready and his body tensed and prepared for action.

“You must understand, Anders - you could do so much more on the inside than like this, always on the run.” Alistair does have a point but far be it that Anders would admit it.

“You just want all mages to be collared and controlled, _Your Majesty!_ ”

“Anders, stop that –“ Sebastian tries to intercede.

“You! You stay out of this, I told you things in confidence and you betrayed me!” Anders is angry, his eyes have a maniacal gleam in them and he does look rather deranged.

“Calm down Anders, please! Just listen to me –“

“You will not divert us from the path we have chosen!”

A booming voice fills the room and Anders is transformed. Blue light shines through the cracks in his skin and something otherworldly is reflected in his eyes. He moves to swing the heavy wooden staff at the man in front of him, missing him by a hair’s breadth. Before he can move for a second try, Alistair steps from behind him with his arms outstretched and places his palms on Anders's shoulders.

There is a flash, a shout and the blue light recedes; leaving only Anders behind.

 _I forgot the King was templar-trained – thank the Maker!_ Sebastian is left shaken by the sudden assault; he has not seen Justice take over Anders like this before.

The staff clatters to the floor and Anders falls to his knees, panting and gasping for air.  
Alistair crouches down wraps his arms around the fallen mage "I'm sorry Anders, I'm so sorry but it was necessary."

Anders can only groan, he has no strength left to fight. But he cannot deny that the feeling of Alistair pressing against his back, his strong arms wrapped around him make him feel, well, rather good to be honest. Alistair keeps arguing his case but he is not really listening.

"Alistair. _Alistair_. Will you bloody shut up for a minute," Anders manages to get a word in between. And the other man does, to his relief.

“It’s OK, you didn’t hurt me – I’m used to this by now.”

Alistair does not let go of Anders, rather lays his head on the other man’s shoulder, relief painted on his face – he had thought Anders hurt by his actions. This is not surprising in itself, Anders remembers very well Alistair’s penchant for overt displays of emotion. But there is something else, something hard pressing against his back. The sensation is unexpected but not unwelcome – quite the contrary, Anders feels himself flushing at the thought of the King getting a hard-on because of him!

He presses himself back against the other man, only just managing to suppress a moan as he does so. He catches Sebastian looking at them and remembers something he had said earlier.

_“I knelt before the Maker and swore to take no bride but Andraste. But I am not a sworn priest – I have taken no other vows.”_

He had on occasion caught glimpses of the lean muscles under that armour and he could swear he’d seen Sebastian looking at him bathing that time by the lake.  
He fixes his gaze on Sebastian’s turquoise eyes - _Maker, a man could drown in those_ \- and licks his lips in the most lascivious way he knows. Sebastian does not look away, though his eyes widen and his mouth opens ever-so-slightly.

Anders takes a chance and leans back on Alistair so his mouth is level to the other man’s ear and whispers _“is that a sword on your hip or are you just glad to see me?”_

Alistair startles and moves to disengage from him but Anders pulls him in for a kiss. After a moment’s hesitation he feels Alistair respond. He wrestles control of the kiss from Anders with fevered passion. One of his hands moves up from Anders’s waist to unhook the clasps of his robe at his throat and the other strays to his groin to grasp Anders's obvious arousal.

Alistair breaks the kiss and stands up leaving Anders panting once more – this time for different reasons though. With shaky fingers Anders finishes what the other man started, unhooking the myriad clasps and buckles of his robe until he can shuck it off his shoulders to the ground, leaving him bare-chested in just his trousers.

He turns his head at the sound of Sebastian catching his breath and sees him standing still, as if rooted to the spot. Anders takes in the flush of his cheeks, the bright eyes and trembling limbs and cannot help but take a halting step forward.

“Maker’s breath but you are a beautiful sight undone like that.”

Something gives in Sebastian at that and he crosses the distance between them and lifts a hand to cup Anders’s cheek.

“I - I haven’t – I cannot give you what you want. I want to – Andraste knows I want to... but I can’t break the only oath in my life that I’ve kept.”

“Andraste didn’t mean you to deny yourself everything. I - if anyone, understand what your conflict is... I grew up in the Chantry, if you recall. Nothing here tonight will cause you to break your vows – you’re not a brother sworn to celibacy. I know the oath you took, and I’m certain it doesn’t mention ‘you mustn't have any pleasures of the flesh whatsoever’.”

The two men turn to look at Alistair at that and find him standing slightly apart from them; head cocked to the side and looking at them with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Now, are you two going to moon over there or will someone come over here and help with this armour..."

Sebastian is first to reach Alistair and his nimble fingers make quick work of the straps on the royal armour and soon it clatters to the floor. Alistair reaches for Sebastian and places a gentle kiss on the other man’s open palm. Raising a questioning eyebrow at him and seeing something in the prince’s eyes by way of response, he beckons for Anders to join them.

With only a couple of steps Anders is standing behind the pair. He longs to feel Sebastian’s skin against his own and kiss, caress, to make the prince tremble under his touch. But that can wait, for now he settles for burying his face on Sebastian’s shoulder while wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist, fingers only just brushing the waistband of his trousers. Alistair continues his attentions on the prince’s hands, kissing each finger separately, taking care to keep his eyes locked on Sebastian’s throughout.

 _“Alistair_ –“ is all Sebastian is able to gasp, but the effect on the other man is profound. Alistair stills for a moment and pulls Sebastian in for a fervent kiss, trapping Anders’s arms between them for the moment. This gives Anders the excuse to press himself even closer against the prince, his arousal tight in his trousers and he is sure Sebastian can feel it. Anders stifles a moan as Sebastian is pushed back against him by Alistair’s embrace. Alistair pulls away from the kiss, leaving Sebastian dazed and breathless in Anders’s arms.

“Anders. Strip.” Alistair's voice rings with command, sending an unexpected flash of desire through Anders. He starts to undo the lacing on his trousers but stops halfway to gaze in unabashed admiration at Sebastian. The prince tugs his shirt over his head and Anders’s gaze takes in the broad shoulders and chest – he had seen the man use his longbow in battle and could attest to the strength that must surely be in those muscular arms. His trousers are sitting low on slender hips and a trail of coppery brown hair disappears below the waistband, Anders’s eyes follow and there – the unmistakable bulge that betrays Sebastian’s unspoken desire. But Sebastian does not - _cannot bring himself to_ \- remove his trousers. The prince stands tall and proud, it is not shame that stops him but resolution. Anders looks to Alistair for confirmation and at a nod from the other man finishes disrobing and stands up, feeling Sebastian’s appraising eyes on him.

Sebastian crosses the distance between them in two long strides and takes Anders’s hand in his own while with the other hand reaches to cup his cheek. Anders is already taut with desire so when Alistair presses against his back and reaches a hand to grip his arousal he shudders with such intense pleasure that he fears spilling himself right then.

“Not yet Anders, hold on just a little longer,” Alistair breathes into his ear and grips the base of his cock just tight enough to help him retreat from the edge. Alistair’s hand moves up to his waist and pulls Anders back against his own erection, so hot and hard against his back.

And then Sebastian is there. His touch is hesitant, like that of a man remembering something long ago forgotten but grows more confident as he explores the planes and contours on Anders’s chest. It feels wonderful, being here like this between two gorgeous men who want him.

Sebastian leans in for a kiss, which Anders returns with passion. The prince’s kisses are reminiscent of the man himself, hesitant at first but more passionate with every swirl of the tongue. As Sebastian trails hot, wet kisses down his throat and down onto his chest, Anders cannot suppress the moans escaping his mouth, not caring if they hear him all the way to the docks.

Anders feels the heat radiating off Alistair’s body pressed against his back, the rock-hard length of his erection rubbing between his buttocks, already slick with sweat.  
Soon it is Anders whose skin is flushed with desire, who trembles like a newborn calf and who is rendered incoherent with desire under their expert ministrations.

“Please... Sebastian, Alistair - I -“

It is Sebastian who responds, pausing his attentions on Anders’s quivering flesh. He reaches up with gentle fingers to brush Anders’s sweat-soaked hair away from his eyes. He kisses Anders’s swollen lips once, twice and retreats, desire shining in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you to His Majesty’s capable hands now; it would be cruel to torment both of us further. I will find my pleasure in watching you reach yours, this way I won’t be tempted to break my vows.”

 _He means to watch while His bloody Majesty fucks me senseless!_ The thought alone is enough to make Anders's knees buckle, and he is grateful for Alistair’s strong arms around him or he would have fallen to the floor for sure.

Alistair untangles himself and Anders whimpers at the feel of cold air against his sweat-soaked skin. He allows Alistair to take him by the hand and lead him towards the small cot in the corner of the room. Once there though, Alistair sits on the edge of the bed and draws Anders into an embrace, his mouth level with the mage’s lean stomach.

“Anders -“ Alistair murmurs against his stomach. “I want to taste you, will you allow me?”

Anders is shocked and it takes a moment for him to gather himself to reply.

“Since when does a King ask a mage whether he can give him a blowjob? I always thought kings take what they want and ask questions later.”

“I could, but then again you've been on your knees in front of me before. I'd hate to drive a tired point home."

Whatever Anders had thought to snap back as a reply is forgotten as Alistair’s mouth covers the tip of his painfully hard cock: It feels good - _oh so good_ \- but Anders is not prepared for the surge of desire that washes over him at the sight of Sebastian not ten feet away. The prince is leaning against the wall of the clinic, Anders realises that Alistair has planned his position to offer their audience the best view. And Sebastian _is_ watching, still clothed in his tight doeskin trousers and his arousal obvious. Sebastian does not say a word, but his eyes are intense and a look of concentration is etched on his face.

Anders is lost in a sea of sensations. The feel of Alistair’s mouth on him, the sight of Sebastian watching them - these combined with their efforts earlier serve to make every nerve-ending in his body stand on edge. His fingers dig into Alistair’s shoulders in an effort to steady himself, he is aware of his breath coming in ragged bursts and his voice is already hoarse from constant moaning and pleading.

He is exhausted and frazzled; not only from their exertions but from his battle for control with Justice. Alistair’s templar abilities prevent him from casting, he cannot summon even a small spark of energy to revitalise himself, so for a second time that night Anders finds himself pleading.

“Alistair - _Maker, please_ Alistair! I - I can’t hold it... please - have mercy”

“Shhh... soon Anders, I promise it will not be long now.”

His eyes snap wide open in shock. _Sebastian? What- how...?_  
Anders looks into those blue eyes and he understands. They are only concerned for his pleasure, caring not for their own. Something unclenches inside at that, he lets out a breath that he does not know he has been holding. He gives in to the pleasure Alistair is giving him, lets the sensation wash over him and then, too soon and yet not soon enough, he feels his release upon him.

His fingers dig into Alistair’s shoulders hard enough to bruise and with a hoarse shout he comes undone and spills himself in the other man’s waiting mouth.

Anders feels drained, but in a strange way cleansed, as if something heavy has been lifted from him. His knees buckle under him and he would have fallen if it wasn’t for a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, supporting him – _Sebastian_.

Sebastian is a reassuring presence at his back and Anders leans backwards letting himself be supported by the other man. He is startled by lips brushing his cheek, kissing away tears he has not noticed are falling. Alistair stands up and his embrace takes in both of them and serves to quiet Anders’s still trembling flesh and frayed nerves.

”I... I’m sorry, neither of you has-”

”Shhh, plenty of time for that later, don’t worry about us,” Sebastian manages somehow to make it sound like a promise and a threat at the same time and to Anders, it sounds ... _right_.


End file.
